


a war is calling (the tides are turned)

by revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01)



Series: we live or die to take the throne [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Getting Together, Planet Zakuul (Star Wars), Political Alliances, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire, Valkorion adopts and raises the Jedi Knight, Valkorion is the Actual Worst, Vaylin and Lia are henceforth known as the Murder Duo, god the family dynamics are so messy, ish, yes this is going to be a series of oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:42:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29316534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/revanchxst
Summary: It also makes the situation with Arcann more pressing. Lia intends to take the Throne herself, someday (she doubts Thexan will want to hold it long, especially since the only reason he took it in the first place was to keep the peace, and he’s going to learn soon that the peace won’t be kept), and to do that she needs to deal with Arcann - but for that, she needs more power. In straight up saber combat, she’d win, but Arcann could destroy her with the Force if he brought all his will to bear on it, and she’s not foolish enough to believe he’d do anything other than use his full strength. Valkorion didn’t favor her for no reason, after all.So to win against Arcann, she’s going to need allies. And as the door to the Throne room hisses open, Lia thinks she knows just who she wants.[or: an alliance is formed.]
Relationships: Arcann & Thexan (Star Wars), Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Vaylin, Thexan & Vaylin (Star Wars), past Arcann & Thexan & Female Jedi Knight
Series: we live or die to take the throne [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153424
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	a war is calling (the tides are turned)

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, i know, this is a confusing sounding AU and the summary was vague. i promise it's fun though. here's the premise: Valkorion captures my Jedi Knight, Lia, as a child and raises her as an apprentice with Arcann and Thexan. i'm going to be writing several different oneshots set within this verse, along with @ipreferfiction - we've sort of combined our respective swtor casts, done some fun class story splicing, and created... a tangled mess. the Outlander is her Darth Nox, Jana, the _actual_ Hero of Tython is her knight, J'lima, and our other characters will be making appearances throughout. 
> 
> ah, it's going to be so fun, time to save the entire Tirall family!
> 
> title for this fic and the series as a whole from "empires" by ruelle
> 
> Lia Vhoss, for reference: https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/784679643777204235/807868030272667658/unknown.png

Arcann has too much power.

Lia Vhoss, former apprentice and adopted heir of the Immortal Emperor Valkorion, adjusts her white and gold tunic and studies the man in the matching outfit, standing next to her before the Eternal Throne. Their brother Thexan sits on the Throne, shoulders a little too stiff, spine a little too straight - he’s never been comfortable with the power, never wanted to rule. Thexan is the soft one, the _kind_ one, of the three of them, the three conquerors who brought the galaxy to its knees, but after Valkorion’s death (it’d been well done, although Lia still wishes she’d been the one who got to deal the final blow, not the outlander they’d drug back to Zakuul), he’d been the only one she and Arcann and Vaylin could agree on to take the Throne. Arcann _hates_ Lia, has for a while now - has since Valkorion took Vaylin to Nathema and made it clear the two of them were the important ones to him. Or, at least, as important as any _person_ can be.

(Their father was not a kind man, nor did he offer praise or affection, especially as they grew older. But Lia used to crave his approval more than anything else, to the point that when Senya - when the woman who could’ve been her _mother_ \- left, when she begged for them to follow her, Lia couldn’t. How could she leave Valkorion when all she wanted was for him to name her his apprentice in truth, was for him to name her good enough?)

It’s only been a year since their father’s death, but already, Lia and Arcann can’t be on the same battlefield anymore; Arcann had tried to have her killed the last time, had pulled back their army and abandoned her in hostile territory. Fortunately for her, Lia is the best of them at saber combat, and while she doesn’t have the same strength in the Force as Arcann (or, Izax forbid, _Vaylin),_ she’s powerful, that’s part of why Valkorion had raised her as his own instead of sending her to the Knights. 

Since that, Thexan has kept them split - Lia focuses on conquering the Republic, since she’s familiar with it, and Arcann handles the Empire. And it’s a good strategy, works well; Lia recently attacked Coruscant, forced a surrender, and she’s just gotten back from taking Tython, while Arcann took Korriban and Dromund Kaas. They’d had losses, of course, but their technological advances and the inherent superiority of the Knights, Force-users who don’t see the Force as a religion but rather as another tool in their arsenal, had won them both galactic powers’ capitals with a surprising amount of ease. They still have to put down uprisings in the rest of the galaxy, of course, but for the most part the war is over.

It’s a little disappointing, if Lia’s honest with herself.

It also makes the situation with Arcann more pressing. Lia intends to take the Throne herself, someday (she doubts Thexan will want to hold it long, especially since the only reason he took it in the first place was to keep the peace, and he’s going to learn soon that the peace won’t be _kept),_ and to do that she needs to deal with Arcann - but for _that,_ she needs more power. In straight up saber combat, she’d win, but Arcann could destroy her with the Force if he brought all his will to bear on it, and she’s not foolish enough to believe he’d do anything other than use his full strength. Valkorion didn’t favor her for no reason, after all.

So to win against Arcann, she’s going to need allies. And as the door to the Throne room hisses open, Lia thinks she knows just who she wants.

“Sorry I’m late, brother,” Vaylin Tirall calls nearly-cheerfully as she strides down the walkway to the Throne, her black cape flowing out behind her. “There were some Knights who just wouldn’t stop talking, saying all these _delightful_ things about our dear family. I had to show them the error of their ways, of course.”

Vaylin is beautiful, really, light brown hair and golden eyes (like all of them but Thexan) and a sharp-edged smile, arms covered in intricate tattoos beneath her dress. And she’s clever, far cleverer than most believe - they can’t quite see past the near-insanity, the way she takes pleasure from her cruelty, her raw power. 

And oh, her _power._

Vaylin is a storm-tossed ocean trapped in a glass bottle, lightning spilling out through spiderwebbing cracks, and all she wants is to be _free._ Valkorion was the worst to her out of all of them - she’s the powerful one, she’s the _threat_ \- and the chains he wrapped her in have been slowly squeezing the life out of her since she left Nathema.

Lia will free her, eventually. Will see that stormy sea let loose on the galaxy.

But for now, she’ll settle for gaining Vaylin as an ally. (And maybe something more.) “I hope you at least told them how wrong they were before you killed them,” she says in the same light tone, and Vaylin smiles as she falls into place between Lia and Arcann.

“Of course I did,” Vaylin says. “It was so very interesting listening to them agree with me while they choked on their own spit.”

Lia’s been working on this for a while, ever since Thexan took the Throne - Arcann and Thexan are twins, there’s no way she’ll be able to separate them from each other. If she forces a choice between them, she knows Thexan will side with Arcann over her. Vaylin is the only one with enough power to confront them both, is the fourth member of their quartet, it only makes sense that the alliances would fall that way. But that’s not the only reason Lia’s been developing… whatever this is, could be.

She genuinely _likes_ Vaylin. And that was _dangerous,_ when father was still around; he had a tendency of stripping away any good thing any of them ever had, making sure they had nothing but the dirt they landed in and the bruises on their skin and their own desperate determination and power. Valkorion is dead now, though, and it’s not like this is a good thing (it's not like Ryn, it's _not)_ , it’s just an alliance, if a maybe-too-affectionate one (not that they’ve _done_ anything, yet, but there’s always the slightest edge of softness when Lia manages to get Vaylin to smile at her, a different edge than the one she shows to her brothers). Even if it _was,_ it won’t matter now. Valkorion can’t stop them.

He doesn’t have any power over them anymore.

“It’s amazing what the Force can do to change a person’s mind when it’s wrapped around their throat,” Lia says, and a flash of anger crosses Arcann’s face.

 _“Enough,”_ he snaps. “We’re here for a meeting, not for _banter.”_

“Someone’s touchy today,” Vaylin says, and Lia snickers at the look on Arcann’s face. He flexes his mech hand a muscle flexes in his jaw on the flesh half of his face. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed, did you, brother?”

“Vaylin,” Thexan says, a note of almost-pleading in his voice, and Vaylin subsides. “I know the three of you can’t stand each other, so if you’ll listen, we can get this meeting over with quickly.”

“Before you give out assignments,” Lia says, because she’s been thinking about this for months, “I wanted to suggest something, Thexan.” Arcann is already shaking his head - he disagrees with nearly everything she says, these days, usually just on the principle of it. Let him disagree with _this,_ though.

Thexan sighs, nods. “Go ahead, Lia,” and he looks so tired. He’s been trying to balance the scales between her and Arcann for a long time now.

“I want to go to Nathema,” Lia says. “I think Vaylin deserves to be free from our father’s control, don’t you?”

“We don’t have time for that right now,” Arcann says almost before she’s even finished, impatient and angry, angry, angry as always. She wonders if he’s even realized just what he’s saying yet. “We have a galaxy to subdue.”

Vaylin has gone very still. “We don’t have _time,”_ she says, slowly, staring at him. “You don’t have time to free your _sister_ from father’s cage? To let me be my own person instead of his tool? To help me learn just what kind of power I have?”

And he stops, just a little, something flickering through his Force-signature and through the air around him. Uncertainty, maybe, shock, guilt. “I just meant- Lia should-”

“Should what?” Lia interrupts, shifts her weight and plants a hand on her hip. “Is the galaxy really more important than family? Imagine what father would say to that. He’d be so proud.”

It’s a low blow. Sheer _hatred_ boils through Arcann’s red-gold eye, and Vaylin wisely takes a step back as he lunges forward, hands tightening and the Force writhing and twisting around him, crackling across his skin. Lia’s pulling her saber into her hands before he has time to blink, the deep gold blade sweeping out, the tip hovering just short of his neck.

“Are we doing this right now?” she murmurs, sees his hand going to his own lightsaber, and she can _feel_ his desperate desire to _kill_ burning out from him in waves. He wants her dead, and she’s never doubted it, but the scope of his hatred is a staggering thing, is nearly enough to scorch the air from her lungs. She grabs onto that feeling instead, pulls it into her, through her, until the Force hums around her just as brightly as it does around him.

“Are you challenging me?” Arcann returns, his voice equally low, and soft gold sparks begin to flicker around his flesh fingers.

Lightning, she can handle.

Lia smiles, grimly. “You wouldn’t be much of one,” she says, and there’s a wave of rage so incandescent it must be visible, and-

_“Enough!”_

Thexan shoves to his feet and the Force wraps around both of them, knocks them off-kilter and away from each other, and it’s enough to break the eye contact, to let Arcann’s lightning dissipate before it’s ever released. “I am the Eternal Emperor here,” Thexan bites out, “and I will not have my siblings trying to kill each other in my Throne room. Lia: it’s a good idea, you have my leave to pursue it, but I reserve the right to recall you when I need you. I’ll send you the other important things later - you’re _dismissed._ Arcann and I will talk in private.”

Like this, blue eyes flaming, he almost reminds Lia of Senya, intent and focused and determined, and there is a _strength_ in Thexan that Valkorion never saw, even if he’s the kind one. (There had been a strength in Senya too, until she abandoned them.) And it’s rare that he addresses them as _Emperor,_ rare that he pulls on his authority, and so Lia returns her lightsaber to her belt and bows, just a little, all she’s ever been willing to do. After years of kneeling to Valkorion, she’ll never kneel to another person, not again.

“Yes, my Emperor,” she says, a little stiffly - the title has never quite felt easy to her, not after Valkorion. It feels too much like giving Thexan absolute control over her, even though he’d never ask for it and she’d never offer. Still. Thexan is her brother, but he is _not_ her Emperor. (No one will ever be her Emperor again, not until she sits on the Throne herself.)

She turns on her heel and strides down the walkway, and she can _feel_ the Knights’ gazes on her as she passes between their two neat rows. They respect her, and fear her - though not as much as they fear Vaylin - and they straighten as she passes them, and it’s almost enough to bring a smile to her lips. The Knights would support her if she moved against Arcann; she’s not in the habit of killing them randomly for their transgressions. A _little_ bit of mercy is a strength rather than a weakness.

There are footsteps behind her, and when Lia steps into the turbolift at the end of the room and turns around, Vaylin isn’t far behind. Lia holds the lift for her, gets a nod of thanks as the younger woman steps in beside her. For a moment, as the doors close and the lift descends, they’re both quiet, and then Vaylin looks over at her and there’s the slightest hint of uncertainty on her face.

“You would’ve challenged Arcann over me?” she asks, quiet, and something long-buried twists in Lia’s chest at the look in her burnished gold eyes. “Over my freedom? I’m plenty powerful enough as I am now, I don’t see why you’d risk your standing for a freedom I’m not certain is possible.”

Yes, because everything in this three-way power struggle for the Throne is focused on personal gain, on toppling the others’ power bases without hurting Zakuul and the Eternal Empire. Or at least, that’s how it had been until now; Valkorion had encouraged that, back when they were all striving for a taste of his approval, for the prized position as his sole apprentice, because they couldn’t form alliances with each other, not if they wanted to be his apprentice. (And Lia had wanted that so very badly.) But Valkorion is dead, their father is _gone,_ and Lia is going to change the paradigm.

“You’re a storm, Vaylin,” she says, her voice as close to soft as she knows how to, anymore. “And storms are far more beautiful when they’re free.”

Vaylin meets and holds her eyes, and it feels like the space between them is reduced to nothing more than a few breaths. “I agree,” she says, hushed. “It’s a shame Arcann doesn’t understand.”

“Arcann never will understand,” Lia says, “and Thexan, for all his kindness, won’t either. They don’t see you the way I see you.”

“And how do you see me?”

“I told you,” she says. “Something beautiful, that deserves to be free.”

Vaylin smiles, slowly. “Storms are dangerous when they’re unleashed,” she says, a glint of challenge in her eyes, and Lia grins back, offers out a hand.

“I’m not afraid of a little danger. It makes things more interesting.”

It’s just an alliance. But the look on Vaylin’s face still sends something warm rushing through Lia’s chest anyway, and it almost feels like an electric shock when Vaylin reaches out and takes her hand. Which makes sense, she thinks, a little heady. It makes sense that a storm would shock her.

“Then we’re agreed,” Vaylin says, as the lift comes to a halt, opening out into one of the palace’s lower levels. Lia steps out and Vaylin falls into place at her shoulder, and it feels _natural,_ and she can’t help squeezing Vaylin’s fingers, just a little. “Allies?”

“Allies,” Lia agrees. “Against the rest of the galaxy, if we have to.”

The look Vaylin gives her sends a shiver down her spine.


End file.
